


it ain't me, babe

by thinkpink



Category: South Park
Genre: Alpha Kyle, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Omega Cartman, Rotating POV, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:08:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27855646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkpink/pseuds/thinkpink
Summary: After years of denial, Kyle is ready to face the feelings he's always known deep down were there. He loves Eric Cartman, and he's tired of pretending otherwise.Unfortunately for him, Eric hasn't been waiting around for his prince to come. He has real issues, like keeping a house over his head and his mother off the streets. Kyle barely crosses his mind anymore, and why would he? It's not like they're friends anymore.
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Eric Cartman
Comments: 26
Kudos: 120





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> originally this was going to be a pretty short story, but the slow burn has been a little slower than expected. first few chapters are written and story is fully plotted out so i'll try to keep the posting pace up but i'm in school full time and work full time so bear with me
> 
> not gonna lie, i'm writing this one for me. this story is 100% my kinks - supportive friends, communication, and self-discovery. first dip in the south park fandom so i hope you all enjoy my take.

Kyle was the first in their grade to present, and he thought he’d done a pretty good job of adjusting to being an alpha.

Actually, he’d always been an alpha. It was in his DNA from birth – before birth, really. 

Some of the kids at his school had been assessed as children. Kids with parents that had the money for pricey genetic testing. Kyle’s parents had the money too, but it was against their religion to delve into secondary sexes before coming of age. 

By the time Kyle’s Bar Mitzvah had rolled around, he’d already known what he was, so he saw no point in it.

His suspicions were confirmed two weeks later, when he’d gone into rut in the middle of seventh-grade gym class. Running around the track to warm up, everything had bothered him. The sharp wind at his face. Stan, bitching about his dad. Jimmy, stuttering through an inappropriate joke from the bleachers. Cartman’s high pitched, constant whining. 

Thankfully the gym teacher had recognized it too and pulled him out of class before he had a chance to follow through on his overwhelming desire to beat the shit out of all of them. His mom had picked him up from school and Kyle spent a miserable three days locked in his room, destroying furniture and eating his family out of house and home. 

Besides his first rut, a _pup rut_ his mom had called it, Kyle had never come close to giving in to his baser alpha instincts. When the other kids had started showing signs, even when Stan had presented as an alpha, Kyle had never felt any sense of territoriality or aggression.

Even towards his classmates that turned out to be omegas - who tended to present later - he felt no intense urge to dominate or posture. Something he’d been warned about the moment he presented. Young alphas weren’t known for the best restraint around omegas, but for Kyle, it had never been a problem.

Well, there had been a moment – just one time – when Cartman had shown up to school after missing an entire week, rosy-cheeked and smelling sweet as pie, an omega if there ever was one. 

Too busy being shocked – _Cartman_ was an omega? Not that Kyle had ever thought he’d present as an alpha, but an omega? _Seriously?_ – Kyle didn’t have the wherewithal to filter his instincts, and suddenly he was standing in front of Cartman, looking down his nose to study him. 

Cartman’s eyes were wide, one brown and one icy blue, looking up at Kyle in a mixture of confusion and curiosity. 

And a little bit of fear. 

It was the fear that startled Kyle out of his daze, forcing him to take in the way he’d crowded Cartman up against the locker, one hand fisted in his red flannel jacket.

There had been no words exchanged but after that, Kyle subconsciously tracked Cartman’s cycle. Every four months after that exchange, Kyle made himself scarce – avoiding Cartman like the plague. 

Which was crazy, Kyle knew. He didn’t avoid any of the other omegas near their heat, not even Butter’s, who everyone agreed had a scent that was like a shot of pure serotonin to the brain. 

But Cartman had always brought out the worst in him, and Kyle refused to be one of those asshole alphas that growled and used alpha command to get their way. 

It’s not like Cartman being an omega made him any less deserving of a swift kick in the ass. 

It just took away Kyle’s ability to be the one to deliver it.

Sometimes he missed being a kid. 

So because of this totally-not-creepy-not-obsessive-at-all- _shut-up_ -Stan little tick, Kyle knew that Cartman was nowhere near estrus. He’d been absent two days a month ago, just like clockwork. He knew for sure because Cartman had bitched incessantly about missing senior homecoming. 

Butter’s skipped it too, out of some sort of _omega solidarity._

They’d spent heats together, Kyle knew that. It wasn’t uncommon in younger omegas, and it was becoming more common – publicly common – in adult omegas too.

Kyle didn’t know if they’d done anything together, he’d never ask – though he suspected Kenny knew – but he felt weird about it either way. He didn’t know why, and he didn’t want to examine the feeling any closer. 

Despite this knowledge, that Cartman’s pheromones weren’t any stronger than usual, that he wasn’t acting out of the ordinary in any way that Kyle wasn’t used to, _something_ was up.

Cartman was standing next to Butter’s, holding his black backpack strap over one shoulder, laughing in a way that didn’t look cruel for once. 

He’d lost the baby fat of childhood – a side effect of his suppressants maybe, Kyle had heard that could happen – and while he’d never be slim, his weight could now be considered voluptuous. Chubby cheeks and soft curves some considered pleasing on an omega – _some_ – not Kyle, who had never given any thought to the attractiveness of omegas. Or barely, hardly ever really, _almost never—_

“Dude, are you listening to a word I’m saying?” Stan waved a hand in front of his face. 

“Winter formal, Wendy’s trying to find a date for Bebe, cause she’s worried or something,” Kyle answered easily, still not looking at Stan, but rather past him, towards the end of the hallway and Butter’s locker. 

“Jesus Christ dude, _you’re_ Bebe’s date!” 

That caught Kyle’s attention. 

“What?” Kyle’s nose scrunched in confusion. “No I’m not.”

“Yes, you are, you _just_ agreed!” Stan’s mouth gaped open in exasperation. “I said, ‘Kyle, Wendy is worried about Bebe since her and Clyde broke up’ and you said ‘that sucks’ and I said, ‘Wendy won’t go to the dance unless Bebe has a date,’ and _you_ said, ‘well just find her a date’ and I said, ‘Kenny is already going with Butter’s so _you_ should take her’ and you said, ‘yeah, sure, fine.’”

Stan finally dropped his arms from where they had been waving through the air to emphasize the back and forth. 

Kyle struggled to remember any part of that conversation before he changed tactics. 

“I was _not_ paying attention to any of that Stan and you know it!”

Stan shrugged, clicking away at his phone. “Too late, I already told Wendy and she told Bebe.”

“What!” Kyle’s eyes flickered past Stan, struggling to find Cartman and Butters in the now more crowded hallway. “I don’t even _like_ Bebe!” 

Stan rolled his eyes, still looking at his phone. “You’re going as friends. She’s still hung up on Clyde anyway.” He shoved his phone into his pocket. “Besides, Bebe’s one of the hottest omegas in town. You could do a lot worse.”

Visions of soft brown hair and odd eyes cropped up in his brain, and Kyle waved his hand in front of his face as if to push them away. 

He looked at Stan with every ounce of frustration he felt. “What if I wanted to take someone?”

Stan scoffed, flicking dark eyes up and down Kyle appraisingly. “Who? Since when do you like anyone, Kyle?”

Kyle felt a stab of irritation. “I could like someone!”

Above them, the bell rang, and Stan turned to head towards class. Kyle quickly shoved his bag into his locker, slamming the door and hurrying after him. 

“You don’t know everything about me, Stan,” Kyle said, falling in step beside him.

“Uh, yes I do,” Stan replied, barely glancing at him. “Super bests, remember?”

Despite himself, the long-used term for their friendship filled him with warmth. Still, Stan was being ridiculous. 

“That doesn’t mean I tell you every thought that pops into my head!” Kyle’s voice was now a harsh whisper, as they took their seats in AP Biology. 

Stan rolled his eyes again, a habit that Kyle had hoped would pass, along with Stan’s _brooding_ phase. “Fine, so you like someone. Just tell Bebe that there’s someone else you want to take to the dance. She’ll understand.”

Panic bloomed in Kyle’s stomach, his cheeks pinking in a way he knew clashed horribly with his hair. 

His eyes shot around the room, grateful that none of their other close friends were in this class. Not that there was anyone, in particular, he’d be looking at, but you know, he didn’t want anyone to think he was acting _weird._ Finally he looked down at his desk, shuffling through the homework that was due. 

“I didn’t say I _do_ want to take someone, I just said, _what if._ You’re just making a lot of assumptions Stan!”

“Jesus Christ, Kyle,” Stan whispered back. “I’m about to take a line out of Cartman’s book and ask if you really do have sand in your vagina.”

“I don’t have a vagina!” Kyle all but shouted, looking at his best friend in outrage. 

Giggling broke out around them, and Kyle flushed, sinking down in his seat. 

Even Stan was snickering. “Look, I’m sorry dude, but I don’t know why you’re blowing this out of proportion. It’s just the winter formal, it’s not like it’s _prom._ ”

Deep down, Kyle knew Stan was right. He wasn’t sure why he was making such a big deal about this. He _liked_ Bebe. They met up once a week to study for their AP English class. She’d canceled this past week, so he knew she was pretty broken up about her relationship with Clyde ending. 

He might have even asked her to the dance himself if he thought about it. 

Maybe it was because Stan had snuck it up on him, gotten him to commit when he was distracted by thoughts of…other stuff.

Kyle’s mom had been on him to take a long weekend and go through rut again. It was okay to keep it at bay with a strict diet and intense exercise, but eventually, every alpha had to go through it every few years. It wasn’t like they made suppressants for it, and even omegas had to skip theirs once every quarter year or so. 

Surreptitiously, Kyle lifted his nose, sniffing at the air around him. Goosebumps broke out over his skin. 

He could easily track Stan, who smelled metallic like the sea, as familiar to him as his own family’s scents. It wasn’t any stronger than usual, if anything, more subdued since he’d gone through a rut not two months ago. 

Beyond him, there were other familiar scents, some more pleasing than others. Alphas tended to have sharper pheromones, harsh and warning, especially to other alphas. Omegas were usually soft – beguiling and soothing in one. 

The only scents that didn’t stand out were the mild beta ones, almost untraceable. It always struck Kyle as unfair that those almost without scent were the ones so gifted at reading them. 

Betas could pick up emotions, just through scent. Sometimes, it was almost like Kenny was reading his mind, his ability was so strong. 

There was a lot of scientific theory behind why betas had the skill but Kyle sort of preferred the story he’d grown up hearing as a kid. That in the days of hunting and gathering, when people lived as nomads in tribes, betas were the peacekeepers between aggressive alphas and passive omegas. 

Of course, the only omega Kyle knew who could be considered passive was Butters, and God knew he could flip a crazy switch with the best of them.

“Mr. Broflovski, if you’d like to finish daydreaming and join the rest of the class, we’re partnering up for labs,” his teacher interrupted. 

Once more the class tittered around him and Kyle blushed, grabbing his book and moving to join Stan at the lab tables. 

+

“Kyle Broflovski, my hero!” Bebe’s bouncy voice came up behind Kyle, where he sat at the lunch table alone. 

He looked up from his book as she sat down beside him. Her face was pale, and though she wore makeup it was far more subdued than normal, neutral colors instead of her usual glitter and swooping dark eyeliner. 

“Oh yeah,” Kyle patted at his curls anxiously, still trying to tuck them behind his ears despite the fact that he’d kept them cropped close to the scalp for years now. “Should be fun!”

Bebe snorted, leaning her elbows back on the table. “You look about as excited as I am.”

Surprised, Kyle choked a bit, looking at him with raised eyebrows. 

“Oh please,” Bebe waved a hand through the air. “I could care less about the dance. But Wendy is all stressed about me after, you know. And it’ll be nice to get dressed up and make that _asshole_ eat his heart out. And I figure there’s no one safer than you.”

She smiled sweetly at Kyle. 

“Safe?” Kyle wasn’t sure if he should be offended by that. “What does that mean?”

Bebe looked at him, glancing up and down. She shrugged. 

“You know, nice! I mean I have other alpha friends, but you never know with some of them. Catch one whiff of the right omega and they go all feral.” She rolled her eyes. 

“And I don’t do that?” Kyle's voice sounded as confused as he felt. 

“Uh, no? I mean, you don’t, right? I’ve never seen it.”

Kyle looked back down at his book, thinking of all the effort he’d put into maintaining composure and integrity since presenting as an alpha. He thought about his dad, who set the bar pretty low as far as he was concerned, and his brother, who had presented earlier than anyone expected and already been caught in more than one compromising position. 

Even Stan got puffed up and growly whenever an alpha he didn’t know took a second glance at Wendy. 

“I mean, I guess not,” Kyle finally said. “No, you’re right. I don’t.”

Bebe smiled. “Exactly. Plus, I like you Kyle, you’re fun.”

Kyle could probably count on one hand the number of times anyone had ever called him _fun_ and his bemused expression made that clear. 

With a toss of her hair, Bebe laughed. “You are fun! In a biting, under the breath comment kind of way. In a very _Kyle_ way.”

Kyle couldn’t help cracking a smile. “Thanks Bebe, I think you’re pretty fun too. In a _bouncy_ way.”

Bebe shrieked with laughter, loud enough to draw the attention of other people in the cafeteria. She cupped her boobs and lifted them up for a brief second. 

“I am _very_ bouncy.”

Kyle noticed that with a smile like that her face was less wan, and the neutral makeup suited her more than he’d originally thought. It was classy and well applied. He looked across the room just in time to see Clyde’s face turn away, his attention back to Token and their other friends. 

When he looked at Bebe, she was grinning, and she flashed him a quick wink. “So! Whose heart will you be breaking that night?”

Kyle inhaled sharply, very pointedly not looking at anyone but her. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He kept his eyes trained on her, not looking away for a second. 

“Uh huh…” She didn’t sound like she believed him. “So there’s not one person in this entire school you’d rather be taking to the dance?”

He tried, really Kyle did. But all it took was one second of weakness and Kyle’s eyes slid from Bebe’s face, glancing behind her before quickly coming back. 

Face splitting into the most devilish grin, Bebe turned her head, looking to the lunch table where Butter’s always sat, today accompanied by Kenny, a couple of the goth kids, and Eric Cartman. 

When she looked back at him, Kyle didn’t think he imagined the way her scent grew heavier and sweeter. He wished to God Kenny was there to interpret it for him. 

“Ahhhh,” she said. “Now _that_ is not as unexpected as you might think it is.”

Choking again, Kyle barely got the words out. “What! I don’t know—what are you even, who do you think—” 

“Kyle, babe,” she put a hand on his elbow. “Unless you’re suddenly into Joy Division and cigarettes, I think we both know exactly who I’m talking about.”

For a moment, Kyle wanted to deny it. Kick up a storm and yell, just like he would have done as a kid, just like he did any time someone tried to imply that he and Cartman were _friends._

But on another level, a less repressed level, he didn’t want to deny it. He wanted to confess, to finally talk about it, to the one person that he truly believed might not judge him. 

It wasn’t like he could tell Stan about it!

“I don’t,” he whispered, still torn. 

Bebe looked at him, and on her face, he saw not harsh judgment, or even sympathy, but something else entirely. It almost looked like understanding. 

Finally, he continued his thought. “I don’t know what to do.”

Her smile was soft and the hand on his elbow squeezed gently. 

“You picked a tough one Kyle, I won’t lie to you. Cartman’s not exactly…easy to handle.” She smiled. “But if anyone can do it, you can.”

Kyle swallowed, looking over at the other table again. Kenny was clearly in the middle of a story, his arm slung casually over Butter’s shoulder, who sat snuggled into his side. Everyone was hanging onto every word, even the goth kids looked something less than bored for once. Kenny leaned forward so that everyone could hear, and before Kyle’s eyes, they all broke down into laughter. 

Butter’s buried his face into Kenny’s neck, shoulders trembling with giggles, while Pete tried to turn his laughter into a more acceptable smirk. Henrietta hid her laughter behind a black lace covered hand but Cartman – Cartman came alive. Head tipped back, body shaking with laughter, Kyle could see the tears at the corner of his ice colored eye from where he sat. 

“I have to say, Kyle,” Bebe spoke again, waiting until Kyle looked back at her. “While some of these idiots might find the thought of you two shocking, this doesn’t surprise me in the least.”

Kyle swore his heart was beating loud enough for her to hear, and he wondered what she was picking up from his scent. “It doesn’t?”

“Nah,” she shrugged, pulling a compact and a tube of lip gloss from the purse at her side. “Like I said, you’re fun—you deserve someone who gets that. And I think Cartman does.”

“What are you talking about, Cartman hates me!” Kyle looked around quickly, to make sure no one heard his sudden outburst, but it appeared safe.

“Yeah right!” Bebe swiped shiny red gloss over her lips, and in front of his very eyes, the Bebe Stevens he knew was returning. “He’s obsessed with you.”

Kyle scoffed. “Are you kidding me? He does everything in his power to make me crazy!”

“Exactly, Kyle,” she pursed her lips in the mirror, smacking them together once before returning the compact and the mirror to her bag. “He’s fucking with you. Because deep down, you guys are a lot alike.”

One eyebrow raised, Kyle gave her a look he hoped conveyed his disbelief. 

She smiled again. “Cartman is fun too.”

+


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact, my name is erin. guess how many times I typed that instead of eric? it's a lot

There weren’t a lot of things Liane Cartman had been able to teach him growing up. 

She didn’t know anything about sports – except which quarterbacks were married or not. She couldn’t teach him how to throw a ball or make a basket from the three-point line. 

When the other boys were getting hunting licenses and going out with their dads, she’d sent him along with his friend’s parents and a “good luck sweetie.” 

She was a decent cook, but even that was difficult for her to pass on, though that may have been more so due to Eric’s inability to follow directions or pay attention to anything without loud noises and flashing lights. 

But there was one thing his mother knew a lot about, and that was being an omega. 

Eric had never expected to be one. He’d thought for sure, with his big bones and strong manly personality, he’d be a large strapping alpha. Bigger than everyone in school, able to push around anyone he wanted. 

At the very least, to be a beta. To use his incredibly refined sense of smell to sniff out people’s emotions, manipulate them into doing whatever he needed by using their desires and fears against them. 

So the morning he’d woken up dripping sweat and sticky between the thighs had been a low blow to his ego.

He’d called his mother into the room, voice higher and whinier than he’d ever heard, unrecognizable even to himself. 

“Maaaahm,” he bawled, not even sure why he was crying. Of course, he knew what was happening, but it felt almost like it was happening to someone else. “Maaahm, please! I need youuuu!”

When his mother finally came into the room, minutes or hours later – Eric could hardly tell, he’d pushed the heavy blankets off of himself and was trying uselessly to pull his sweat-soaked pajama top off. It felt like his fingers were useless. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Liane cooed, and in that moment her voice was the most soothing caress he’d ever known. Her sweet pheromones enveloped him, stronger than he’d ever scented it before, and her hands were cool marble against his heated face. “Oh, my baby, you’ve presented.”

_No shit,_ he wanted to yell, but all he could do was turn his cheek into her cold hands, mewling like a pathetic baby. 

“Maahm, mama, please,” he begged, though for what, he didn’t know. 

Eric didn’t even know why he was bothering, she’d never been able to help him before. 

But the woman who held his face in her hands just then was unlike the parent he had always known. Instead of the meek, insecure single-mother he was used to, there sat a confident, decisive omega. 

She purred low in her throat, a sound he’d never heard from her, not even when he could hear her with alphas through his bedroom wall. She placed her forehead against his and continued to purr, brushing his sweat-soaked bangs away from his face. 

“You’re okay, Eric. Mama is here.” Her voice was silk against his burning skin, but it wasn’t long before the overwhelming warmth that had woken him up began to build again. 

Whining low in his throat, which felt raw beyond any illness he’d ever had, Eric kicked at the blankets, tugging at his clothes. He was beginning to sweat again, and between his legs, what subconsciously he knew was omega slick was beginning to leak once more. 

Without words, his mother ferried him into a cool bath, keeping the lights off and lighting a few candles to see by. Once again Eric lost track of time, and before he knew it his mother was pulling him from the bath, wiping him down like a child, with a towel he knew she kept special for her heats. 

Later on, Eric would have the mind to be embarrassed at himself, and especially at the small erection that would not wilt, not even in the cold water, but his mother was clinical and detached in the moment. 

When they returned to his bedroom, the mattress had been stripped of his blankets and sheets and replaced with linen she kept locked in her own closet, piled high with blankets and pillows he’d never seen before. 

“These are yours, Eric,” Liane told him, helping him back into the bed without dressing. “I’ve never used them, and I never will. They’ll be just yours, when you need them, from now on.”

It wouldn’t register until much later that his mother’s level of preparation meant she’d expected this – she’d known he would present as an omega. When pressed, she would only say, “mother’s intuition,” in that understated way of hers. 

Wrapped in soft blankets, Eric accepted the glass of foggy liquid his mother handed him, drinking it down without question. He scooted over in his bed when she made to sit with him, not arguing when she pressed his head against her breast, purring once again.

That week, between bouts of fever and bawling fits, Eric and his mother talked, for what he realized was possibly the first time. 

Eric would be fifteen in two weeks, but he was finally beginning to know the woman who had given birth to him and raised him all on her own, despite everything. 

And he finally realized how much he had to learn from her. 

+

“Maaahm!” Eric shouted, slamming the door closed with his foot. 

“In here, sweetie!” 

Following her voice into the kitchen, Eric found his mother sitting at the table, a cup of coffee and a stack of papers in front of her, a cigarette between her delicate fingers. 

Tearing off his jacket, Eric picked up the packet near the ashtray and shook out a cigarette before sitting down across from her. 

“How was work, sweetie,” Liane smiled, little wrinkles creasing around her odd eyes, an exact match of his own. 

Eric shrugged, flicking the lighter. “I got paid today,” he exhaled a plume of smoke, trying to avoid her face. 

“Oh, that’s good,” she replied. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” She moved as if to stand up, but he waved her off. She looked exhausted. 

“I get enough of that at Tweek Bros., thanks.” He rolled his eyes, pulling the check out of his back pocket. “This should be enough for the electric, and part of the mortgage. I say we float the car payment this month and I can pick up extra shifts in December. People tip a lot around the holidays.”

His mother sighed, grey smoke billowing from her nose like a dragon. “If I can pick up more shifts at the grocery store, we’ll have the full mortgage and you can keep some of that money, Eric.”

“You’re already working six days a week, are you gonna invent a time machine?” 

She smiled, though it was strained, and Eric could see there was no happiness there. “They need people overnight, to stock for the holidays.”

“Putting you at what, sixty hours a week? You’re killing yourself, mom.”

“Well, Eric, I don’t have a lot of options right now,” her voice was strained, as strict as it ever got with him. 

Pulling in a drag, Eric looked at his mom closely. 

She was beautiful, even now, after years of drug use and prostitution, stacked on top of being the sole provider for a problem child like Eric Cartman. He thought briefly of Jack Tenorman and the probable wealth of a super bowl winner, and not for the first time cursed his youthful need to seek revenge without getting all the details. 

“Of course, there’s always—” 

“No,” Eric growled, sounding almost like an alpha, not giving her the chance to suggest what he swore he’d never let her do again. “There are other places we can cut corners.”

“Eric, I know what you’re going to suggest—” Liane reached out, grabbing his hand.

“Mom, it’s not a big deal, I won’t get off my medication—”

“But that therapist has helped you so much!”

Taking her hand in his, Eric squeezed gently. “It’s fine mom, it doesn’t have to be forever. Just ‘til we get caught up on the bills.”

He didn’t say what they were both thinking, that between two omegas on suppressants and Eric’s laundry list of medications, getting caught up was impossible. 

“Besides,” he waved his hand carelessly, dropping ash onto the floor. “You’ve been to one therapist, you’ve been to ‘em all. She’s not telling me anything new anyway, all we do is talk about my fucking week.”

“It’s important to talk through those things, sweetheart! Open communication has changed you so much for the better.”

Eric tried to brush it off, but the swell of pride he felt at his mother’s words brought a small flush to his face regardless. 

“So I’ll just talk to someone else. I’ve got friends. Wendy and Butters, and Kenny, and uh… you.”

“Oh Eric,” Liane sighed. “I wish there was more that I could do.”

“Mom,” Eric stared into his own eyes. “You’ve done enough. Let me help you now.”

They spent another hour looking over the bills together, Liane force-feeding Eric dinner that he didn’t want – the omega suppressants suppressed more than just his hormones – before he said goodnight and made his way upstairs. 

Lying in bed, staring up at the press on glow stars stuck to his ceiling, Eric wished he really did have a time machine. He had once, or at least he thought he had, it had probably been pretend but sometimes it was hard to tell, his memories blurring with fantasies. 

He went through the breathing exercise his therapist was always pushing on him, inhaling slowly to hold his breath before letting it out to do again. 

When he was a kid, things had been easier. He hated to even think that, because looking back on himself as a kid was a lesson in humility, and he’d never want to go back to the way he treated his mother. 

But before, he hadn’t needed expensive suppressants. He hadn’t had the wherewithal to consider money or status in life. 

He’d just been a kid, playing with his friends, wrestling them into the dirt without thought for sex, secondary or otherwise. 

Pulling out his phone, Eric shot off a text.

_you think i’d make a decent drug dealer?_

_i think i’d be pretty rad_

Wendy’s reply came quickly. 

_To be perfectly honest Cartman, I’m surprised you haven’t already tried._

Eric grinned, face lit up from his screen in the otherwise dark room. 

_I think you’d do terrible in prison, however._

_ay! i’d kill in prison! you think they wouldn’t want a piece of this sweet omega ass???_

_That’s exactly what I think._

_Everything okay?_

Eric sighed, lighting up another cigarette, even though he hated it when the smell of smoke lingered in his room during his heats. 

_same old bullshit. hey what the fuck was up with the ginger today?_

_he seemed extra…gingery_

_Lol. Nerves maybe? Bebe asked him to the dance today._

Eric exhaled in disgust.

_ugh, gross._

_You asked!_

_yeah yeah. night bitch <3 _

_Goodnight Cartman. Don’t let the gingers bite._

Eric smiled despite himself. He got out of bed, moving to the window and opening it only enough to flick ash outside. 

Kyle had been weird that day. Eric had caught him staring at him more than a few times – like he was tracking a prisoner in the yard, waiting for him to make a break for freedom and further life of crime. Which was bullshit because Eric wasn’t even up to anything sketchy lately. 

He _should_ have been, if he wanted to keep a roof over his and his mother’s head. 

But the bitch of it was, actually caring about his mother and her opinion of him meant he had to keep his nose clean. It was a real catch-22. 

The best plan he could come up with was to work a shitty after school job selling coffee for the Tweaks, and keeping his grades up high enough so that he could get into college for free and study the best way to make shit loads of cash. 

One of these days, he was going to put his mother in a big ass house and give her a car that didn’t sound like it was ten miles from death when driven. 

Then he was going to find his dear brother and rub it into his shitty, freckled face that he didn’t need daddy’s money to make it. 

Of course, most of Scott’s money had been spent on his extensive mental institution fees, but that was neither here nor there. 

With ginger’s on the brain, it was inevitable that Eric would glance down the street, eyes fixed on the Broflovski home. The room that he knew belonged to Kyle was lit up, though the curtains were drawn, and Eric couldn’t help wondering what could possibly be keeping the school’s precious future valedictorian awake so late.

What kind of problems could Kyle possibly have? He was a genius alpha, had a family that could support him, and a rich dad – shithead though he may be. Even his bitchy mom wasn’t so bad, Eric knew she was one of the few people in town that spoke to his mother like a real person. 

Taking the last drag of his cigarette and throwing the butt out the window, Eric thought about how things used to be before. 

Before Eric was an omega, and his relationship with Kyle and Stan changed so decisively. When they treated him like a normal dude, just a friend to screw around with and rough house and rip on. 

Not like how they treated him now. 

Like an omega they didn’t quite understand. 

Not good enough to fuck but also no longer a real friend. 

_Not_ that Eric wanted to fuck either of them. He didn’t, not at all, it had never crossed his mind, not even in the deepest throes of heat. 

Nope. His brain had _not_ gone there. 

Although, there had been that one time…when Eric had just presented, and Kyle all but shoved him against the wall. The way he’d looked at him, pupils blown and radiating the deep, earthy fall smell that Eric could now actually pick up due to presenting. 

It was the lingering heat that had caused slick to dribble between his thighs, Eric was sure of it, but…

Sometimes, that, he thought about. 

+

Eric hadn’t been a big coffee drinker before, but working at Tweek Bros., it was kind of an occupational hazard. 

Sunday was the worst day of the week. 

For one, he was alone for the first half of the morning because the Tweak’s attended church, and the cheap ass that was Richard Tweak refused to hire another barista for the weekends.

But even worse were the customers.

At least after school most of the customers were chill, just looking for a pick me up after work or a place to hang out and get some studying done. The goth kids had a corner they’d claimed and over the year and a half of working there, he considered them something close to friends, if they believed in that sort of stuff what with all the nihilist shit. 

People weren’t in such a hurry in the afternoon and evening. 

Sunday though… Sunday was a blood bath, and Eric started the day with three shots minimum. 

“Excuse me but if you could take a second from _your own coffee_ and make my coffee, _the customers…_ ”

Eric rolled his eyes, throwing back his third shot of the morning. It was going to be a five-shot day, he could tell.

“Excuse me,” Eric returned, emptying the grounds from the portafilter into the trash and refilling it with new ones. “This coffee keeps _me_ from spitting in _your_ coffee, so I think you’ll find you’d rather I take three seconds to myself.”

The woman at the counter's mouth dropped open, her eyes wide enough to pop. Her hair was cut into a short, sleek bob and her clothes were designer, with make-up straight out of an Instagram tutorial. Eric thought referring to her as a “Karen” would be doing her a kindness when really, she looked like a straight-up cunt. 

“I’d like to speak to your manager,” she hissed, and Eric could hear people in the line behind her groan. 

He laughed, holding out his arms. “Lady, do you see anyone else? It’s just me. So if you want to file a complaint, feel free to scribble it down on a napkin and I’ll make sure it gets to someone _important._ ”

She huffed, manicured nails tapping on the counter while Eric finished her drink.

“Double soy latte with sugar-free sweetener, no spit,” he smiled sweetly, holding it out. She snatched from his hand immediately. 

“Don’t think I won’t be leaving a Yelp review,” she spat, turning to leave.

“Oh no!” Eric called after her. “Not a Yelp review! On the only coffee shop in town! However will we survive!”

Eric took the next three customers in rapid succession, espressos and lattes, and americanos, all perfect and quick. Surprisingly there were no complaints from anyone, and if it hadn’t been for the chuckling, Eric barely would have registered the next customer as a classmate. 

“Clyde,” Eric grunted, already making his drink. He only ever ordered a chai latte, hot in the morning, iced in the evening, no matter how cold. 

Eric had very little respect for tea drinkers. 

“Morning, Cartman,” Clyde grinned, towering over the counter. 

That was at the top of the list of things Eric hated about being an omega. While his alpha classmates had shot up, he’d leveled out at a petite 5’3”. Even Kenny was taller than him, the beta bastard. 

Clyde was one of the tallest, after Craig and before Kyle, a massive 6’2”.

“You always remember my drink,” he commented, weirdly friendly. 

And it was weird. Eric and Clyde didn’t talk. If it wasn’t for Tweek bringing Craig and his gang around the shop, Eric would hardly remember he existed. 

“You’re very boring,” Eric replied, pouring the steamed milk. 

Clyde laughed, which Eric found odd since he hadn’t meant it as a joke. Leaning over the counter, Clyde rested his elbows on the butcher block top. “Maybe I should try the spit latte?”

It was only because Eric found Clyde to be one of the most boring people in the world, that it took him so long to realize what was going on. 

It also could have been because though he had observed the behavior in others, no one had ever done it to him. 

Clyde Donovan was mother fucking _flirting_ with him.

Eric raised an eyebrow slowly and would be embarrassed to admit that he looked behind himself, checking to see if Tweek hadn’t gotten in early from church. After ascertaining that no, he was alone, and it could only be him Clyde was making a pass at, he turned back to the alpha in question.

Clyde was cute, he guessed, but only because he looked like what Eric imagined he would have looked like as an alpha. Tall, strong, brown hair, husky. His scent wasn’t awful either, it sort of reminded Eric of a mechanic’s garage, but in a good way, if that was even possible. 

“Do you have a concussion, Donovan?” 

For a second, Clyde looked confused, but the expression passed. “What, no. I’m just headed to late mass.”

“Uh, right…” Eric threw him an odd look, trying to shake off the thought from before. Maybe he was imagining it. It wasn’t like it had ever happened before. Maybe Clyde was just weirder than he thought.

“It’s three seventy-five,” Eric told him, punching the finished order into the screen. Clyde pulled out a five and handed it to him, pressing the bill down into his palm harder than seemed necessary.

“Keep the change,” Clyde smiled, and Eric couldn’t help thinking it made him look somehow less intelligent than he already appeared. 

“Uh, thanks,” Eric sorted out the change, dumping it into the tip jar. He handed the tea over and was already turning to the next customer when Clyde spoke again.

“Hey Cartman,” he said, expression odd again.

“What,” Eric sighed, fearing where this was going.

Clyde touched the back of his neck, in a way he probably thought made him look like a _good, old boy._

It did, honestly, but Eric had never had any patience for South Park good old boy rednecks. 

“I know this is kind of out of the blue, but do you maybe want to get a cup of coffee sometime?”

Eric closed his eyes slowly, praying for strength. When he opened them, he looked around the room, and then back to Clyde. 

“Not really.”

“Oh!” Clyde laughed. “I guess I didn’t think, I mean, it doesn’t have to be coffee! We could get ice cream or—”

“Clyde, I’m gonna interrupt you there. Are you asking me on a fucking date?”

Clyde grinned, sort of sheepish, and Eric thought maybe he could see what some of the omegas in school saw in Clyde. 

“Well, uhm, yeah, actually. I thought, maybe it’d be fun!”

“Fun…” Eric could vividly remember making Clyde Donovan cry until he pissed his pants multiple times as a child. “Why do you think going on a date with me would be _fun_?”

Clyde shrugged. “Well I mean, I know we didn’t always get along as kids—”

Eric wondered what the fuck rose glasses Clyde viewed their past through. 

“—but I mean, we’ve both grown up, and you know, you’re…”

Ugh, Eric knew. He knew exactly. It was what his mother had warned him about the second he presented. That people would treat him differently, even his friends. That there would be people that would only see him as an omega, and expect the things omegas were supposed to do. Those people would never value him as a person, but only as a warm, wet hole that would beg to be fucked and knotted and – 

“—funny!”

Eric’s mental raging ground to a halt. He looked up at Clyde, towering over him.

“You think I’m funny?”

“Yeah! That spit thing was hilarious. Plus, you’re always saying stuff in class that kills me.”

It was true that Eric did still make a habit of ripping on people, though now subtler – to avoid being sent to the principal’s office. 

He hardly expected Clyde Donovan to pick up on his wit. 

It was the shock of it all, that caused Eric to say, “Um, okay.”

Clyde lit up. “Really? Wow! Okay, uhm, is your number still the same, I think I have it—or, I can just get it from Tweek, I’ll ask—”

“It’s the same,” Eric spoke through numb lips, still not sure what he was doing. 

“Awesome! I’ll just—”

“Excuse me, can we order some coffee here!”

More grumbling joined in and Eric finally remembered where he was and what he was doing. He turned away from Clyde, not even watching him go, as he jumped back into taking orders and making coffee. 

Two hours later, Tweek showed up and Eric was finally able to take a break. 

The second he was in the back room he grabbed his phone, pulling up his chat history with Butters.

_something really fucking weird just happened_

+


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will kyle and eric ever actually talk to each other in this fic? tune in next time....

The thing about it was, Kyle’s feelings for Cartman were nothing new. 

He’d always known about it, deep down. 

He’d known the second he’d gone into his first rut, because in between screaming and crying and tearing his room apart, Cartman had been the only one on his mind. 

And the first time he’d caught a whiff of Cartman’s sugary, soft omega scent, he’d known how fucking screwed he was. 

So he’d done the sensible thing. 

Buried it. 

Shoved it down so far that even he forgot about it, most of the time. Until the thought of Cartman filled him with the same loathing he’d carried as a kid. Until he could actually bear to face him every day without fear of blushing or stammering or worse – admitting his feelings. 

Kyle may have been something close to in love with Cartman, but he wasn’t stupid enough to give him that kind of ammunition against him. He’d learned that lesson more than enough times. 

And he’d done an admirable job, Kyle thought. Sometimes he really could convince himself he didn’t care about Cartman, didn’t miss the easy – well, _easier_ – friendship they’d shared before presenting. 

Since vocalizing his feelings to another person though… Things had changed. 

It was like everywhere Kyle looked, there was Cartman. 

Laughing with Butters and Kenny in the middle of the hallway. Studying in the library with Wendy – a friendship he still didn’t quite understand but chalked up to a weird omega-bonding type thing. Three seats in front of him, not paying attention to anything except the AP History test he was glaring down at before furiously scribbling in answers. 

Cartman barely spoke to him anymore, except to make flippant comments that could almost be considered insults but not quite enough to get him in trouble with any teachers. 

Kyle knew he worked at Tweek’s coffee shop, but as Kyle didn’t drink coffee, he rarely had reason to run into him there. 

He still saw Miss Cartman pretty regularly, checking groceries at the shop near their houses. He didn’t know what other work she did these days – if she still traded money for the pleasure of her company – but Kyle tried not to think about it. He hoped she didn’t but didn’t feel it was his place to find out. 

She always asked after him, enquiring about his studies and checking in on his family. Every time they spoke, Kyle thought about asking about Cartman, wondering if she could give him insight on how his former friend was doing. But he couldn’t take the risk that she would turn around and tell her son. 

Kyle lived in fear of Cartman realizing he actually gave a shit. 

“Who pissed in your cheerios?” Kenny’s deep voice cut through Kyle’s thoughts, reminding him that he was sitting in the middle of the cafeteria. 

“What does that even mean?” Kyle asked, grabbing his bag from the other side of the table to give Kenny space to drop his tray. 

“You smell stressed,” Kenny shrugged, peeling the top off a plastic cup of chocolate pudding. “Could scent you from across the room.”

Kyle looked around briefly, wondering what other betas might have picked up on his internal turmoil. 

“Nothing, a math test I think I fucked up on.” The lie rolled off his tongue as he unwrapped the sandwich his mother had packed that morning. 

“Eh, I think you can survive an A-minus for once,” Kenny winked, licking at the foil top. 

Before Kyle could reply, the devastatingly lovely floral scent of Butters reached his nose, the petite blonde taking a seat next to Kenny. 

“Heya, Buttercup,” Kenny cooed, and Kyle tried not to roll his eyes as they exchanged a quick peck. 

“Well hi there Kyle!” Butters smiled, his cheeks dimpling. “I feel like I haven’t talked to you in days!”

Kyle shrugged, thinking about that fact that, generally wherever Butters went, Cartman was sure to be found. 

“Busy you know, college prep stuff.”

Butter’s waved a hand. “If anyone has got college in the bag, it’s you Kyle!” And then he looked up and past Kyle, eyes lighting up. “Oh, Eric! Over here!”

Kyle tensed, very purposefully not turning to look and see if Cartman would actually come and join them. The only real spot at the table was right next to Kyle, and he was still trying to rebuild his carefully crafted Eric Cartman emotional shield. 

“Ugh, Butters, stop waving, I see you.”

And like a scene from Kyle’s stress dreams – the ones where he stood in front of the class in his underwear, reading homework that wasn’t correct in the least, while Stan would call out “oh my God, just admit you wanna fuck Cartman already, jeez” – Cartman was sitting down next to him.

“What’s the haps, my man,” Kenny held out a fist for Cartman to bump before throwing his arm over Butter’s shoulder. 

“Jew,” Cartman greeted, voice holding almost no insult. Like he couldn’t care less, like Kyle didn’t even register on his radar anymore.

“Fatass,” Kyle returned, natural as ever. 

Kyle took a moment to take in their positions, all four of them sitting together, side by side and across from each other. It felt like the weirdest couples’ date he’d ever been on. 

“So Eric,” Butters started, voice holding a hint of mischief. “When is your _date_?”

Kyle froze, his breath caught in his lungs. 

“Jesus Christ, why do I ever tell you anything?” Cartman grumbled, the edges of his cheeks turning pink. Even his scent changed, his usual cotton candy sweetness shifting to something more subdued. 

Kyle looked at Kenny, hoping to see something on his face that might give away what it meant, but found nothing. Kenny merely looked back at him with a can-you-believe-it expression. 

“Well, it’s exciting!” Butters gushed. “You never—”

“Butters, stop,” Cartman growled, keeping his attention on his lunch tray.

Kyle couldn’t help himself. “You have a date?”

He tried to make it sound derisive, but it sounded more panicked. 

Cartman scoffed, finally looking at him, his head tipped up to make eye contact. “Don’t sound so shocked Jew, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a very desirable omega.” 

He said it with his usual self-confidence, tossing long bangs out of his face as he did so. They immediately fell back into his eyes, and Kyle fought the urge to reach out and push them back. 

He had to know. “With _who_?” 

“Oh with—” Butters started, but Cartman was quick to cut him off.

“None of your fuckin’ business Kahl,” he said, with what Kyle felt was unnecessary force. “Keep your eyes on your own omega, ey?”

Confused, Kyle had to ask. “What are you talking about?”

Cartman heaved a put-upon sigh. “Bebe would be so hurt to hear you saying that, what a heartless alpha you are.” 

Kyle scoffed. “How did you even hear about that?”

“Uh hello, Wendy is my main bitch. I know everything that goes on in this school.”

Wendy, of course she would tell Cartman. Kyle wondered what he thought about it. If he cared at all. 

He hated himself for wishing that he did. 

“Yeah well, we’re just going as friends. She’s still hung up on Clyde.” Kyle said and immediately regretted it. That wasn’t his information to share.

Kenny huffed a laugh. “Well Clyde seems to be pretty well over her.” 

Kyle looked at him for clarification, but an elbow from Butter’s stopped anything else he might have said. 

The atmosphere was tense for a few moments, no one saying anything while they focused on their food. 

Appetite gone, Kyle decided he didn’t need to put himself through whatever was happening at that table and stood. 

“Well, I’ll see you guys around,” he said with forced nonchalance. 

“Oh, but lunch has barely started,” Butters said, his eyebrows creased in concern. 

“Yeah, I uh—have to study. Math test soon.”

Kenny raised an eyebrow. “I thought you just took your math test?”

Kyle flushed, cursing his inability to keep a lie straight. This is why he never tried. 

“Oh uh, well I want to prep for the next one. Since I—umh, didn’t do so well on this one…”

The look on Kenny’s face said he didn’t buy that for a second, but he was never one to rock the boat and thankfully let Kyle’s flimsy excuse slide.

“Oh no,” Cartman said, still looking at his lunch and pointedly not at Kyle. “Is the golden boy slipping?”

Rolling his eyes, Kyle slung his bag over his shoulder. “Fuck off, Cartman.”

“I just might,” he said cryptically. 

Kyle hightailed it out of the cafeteria, ignoring Stan’s invite to join him at the table with all the other football players. There was nothing Kyle hated more than the macho, alpha bullshit that went on with that group. 

His mind was reeling. 

Cartman had a _date_? Who could it possibly be?

It was true, that since the multiple middle schools across Park County all combined together in high school, forming a much larger student base, there were a lot of people who didn’t remember the Eric Cartman everyone who’d gone to South Park Elementary remembered. 

But Kyle had never really seen Cartman interacting with any of them, except to make rude comments and occasionally shove smaller students out of his way. 

Even as an omega, and short one at that, it quickly became clear that Eric Cartman did not take shit from anyone and did not care to make friends. That reputation preceded them each year as they moved up and younger students came in. 

Had someone managed to breakthrough? Was there someone in this school that could look past Cartman’s carefully built walls to see the deeply buried worth that Kyle saw? 

Kyle felt sick thinking about it. 

This was all his fault. Kyle had acted like Cartman would always be there, waiting for Kyle to pull his head out of his ass and make a move. 

But Cartman had absolutely zero reason to believe Kyle saw him as anything but an annoying former friend. 

And it was all Kyle’s fault.

As if by divine intervention, Kyle rounded the corner to find Bebe and Wendy standing at their lockers. They were both looking at something on Bebe’s phone and giggling. 

Giving no thought to how it would look, Kyle quickly rushed up and grabbed Bebe by the arm, all but dragging her down the hall.

“Can I talk to you?” He asked, voice high and reedy, without giving her a chance to react.

“Uhh, do I have a choice?” She huffed, letting Kyle pull her away.

“Is everything okay?” Wendy called after them in concern.

“Tell her it’s about the dance,” Kyle hissed.

Bebe looked at him with wide eyes, clearly sensing this had nothing to do with the dance, but still, she shouted back to her friend. “Oh yeah, I just forgot, me and Kyle were going to spend lunch coordinating our outfits for the dance!”

“Oh—alright,” Wendy replied, her voice already far away, and Kyle continued hustling them away and into the library. He let her go once inside, racing for the desk in the back that no one used unless they were planning to make out without interruption because the lightbulb was burned out above it.

“Oh well now people are definitely going to talk Kyle,” Bebe laughed, taking a seat across from him.

Leaning over the table, Kyle hissed. “Cartman has a date!”

Bebe’s eyes went wide. “Oh shit. With who?”

“I don’t know! No one would tell me. Cartman clearly doesn’t want me to know.”

Holding a finger to her lips, Bebe hummed. “Why would Cartman care if you knew who was taking him on a date? Unless…he cares about your opinion.”

“Oh please,” Kyle rolled his eyes. “He just likes it when I don’t know things.”

Bebe shrugged, but her eyes said she didn’t believe him. 

“Well…If you wanted—I could talk to Wendy,” she offered. 

Kyle felt a weight lift from his shoulders. “Is there like…a way you could do it so that she doesn’t get suspicious?”

“Please Kyle, I’m a girl. Plus, me and Wendy tell each other everything. And I’m sure Cartman’s told her. He texts her constantly.”

Kyle tried to push aside the irrational jealousy that arose in him. “Yeah uh, what’s up with that? I mean, I know Wendy is really forgiving but they used to hate each other.”

“Eh,” Bebe tossed her long blonde hair over one shoulder. “They’ve always been more alike than either of them liked to think. Plus, Wendy says he’s gotten way better since he went to therapy.”

Floored, Kyle felt his mouth drop open. “Cartman went to therapy?” 

“Uh, did you think he just stopped being an asshole all the time because he felt like it?”

Feeling like an asshole himself for never really considering it, Kyle said, “Well, no…but I kind of thought it was just, ya know, presenting as an omega…softened him up?”

Bebe’s scent changed suddenly, something sharper, and the hairs on Kyle’s arm stood up. It was a warning scent, though he’d never caught it on anyone besides an alpha before. 

“Kyle Broflovski, how can you be so smart and still so fucking stupid?” Her hands were on her hips, and Kyle could tell even without a betas ability that change in scent meant she was fucking pissed. “Presenting doesn’t _change who you are._ Did it change you?”

“No! No, I know that,” Kyle tried to backtrack. “I just thought, I dunno, maybe for some people. And they say the hormonal changes are so much harder on omegas, especially male ones. I read that once! In a book!”

Bebe rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you did.”

“Uh, I’m being an alpha chauvinist, aren’t I?” Kyle offered meekly. 

“You are,” she nodded primly. “But since this is your first offense, I’ll let it slide.”

And then she was smiling at him again like they were still friends, and Kyle felt a rush of relief. 

“Sorry, I just…never thought Cartman would try to…improve himself. He always acts like he’s the greatest person in the room.”

“Oh Kyle, you know as well as I do that’s an act. I mean, maybe not when we were kids. That little asshole always did think he was the shit.”

They shared a laugh.

“Anyway, that’s why Wendy took him under her wing, I guess. You know she loves to help people.”

That brought Kyle back to his original reason for dragging Bebe into the library. 

“So you think you can do some digging?” He hated that term, but it was really the only word for what he needed.

“Sure thing, babe,” she winked. “And once we know who, then we’ll come up with a plan. I mean, he’s going on one date, it’s not like he’s suddenly in a relationship.”

Kyle nodded, hoping what she was saying was true. It wasn’t a relationship, but still, if Cartman had agreed to the date, it had to mean he at least _liked_ the other person, right?

+


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to post this chapter (because it's my favorite so far) even though i've got barely any of the 5th written. 
> 
> cross your fingers i get my shit together :)

Eric had had enough time to realize that it was some combination of the multiple shots of espresso, the stress that was working a Sunday shift alone, and the shock at someone actually flirting with him that had made him agree to this.

Standing in front of his closet, wondering which outfit would give off the most I-only-look-this-good-because-I’m-a-well-dressed-person-and-not-because-I-want-you-to-find-me-attractive vibe, he questioned his sanity for the hundredth time. 

It had been a mistake telling Butters, who immediately told Kenny, because that gave it some type of significance that Eric just didn’t feel about the entire situation. 

He hadn’t even bothered telling Wendy, that was how much just he didn’t care about it all. 

But free ice cream was free ice cream, and despite having absolutely zero interest in Clyde, the fact that he had the capacity to recognize Eric’s biting words for what they were – jokes – had left a little bit of a soft spot in Cartman’s otherwise cold heart for the big, stupid alpha. 

“Sweetie, there’s a young man downstairs,” Liane said, poking her head around the corner of Eric’s bedroom door. She took in the way he was standing, half-dressed, in front of his closet, and her eyes lit up. “Oh! Is this…” 

Eric rolled his eyes. “It’s nothing mom. Just hanging out.”

She drooped noticeably, before perking back up. “Well, I like the white sweater, either way. It never hurts to look nice, and he _is_ quite handsome.”

Looking down at the two garments in his hand, Eric stuck the losing shirt back into his closet before pulling out a charcoal button up to wear under the white sweater his mother liked so much. Partnered with tight black jeans, he still looked a little too cute to be casual, but then again, Eric rarely had a chance to dress up these days. 

“Where are you two off to?” She asked, unnecessarily straightening out the collar of his dress shirt. 

Eric shrugged, pushing his bangs back off his forehead only for them to fall right back in his eyes. 

“I dunno, ice cream or something,” he mumbled back, feeling embarrassed despite his own assurances that this was _not_ a date. 

“Oh,” Liane replied. “It’s a little cold for ice cream, but I suppose you’ll have fun either way. What’s this young alpha’s name?”

The way she put stress on the word alpha made Eric nervous. It was true, he didn’t really hang out with alphas casually, or at all, but that didn’t mean it was something significant. 

“Clyde,” Eric grunted. 

She looked thoughtful. “Clyde… That sounds familiar. Have you mentioned him before?”

Eric cut that thought off quickly. “No. But he was probably around when I was a kid or something, before…”

He didn’t have to explain further. She knew exactly what he meant. 

“Well, I think you’ve let your friend wait long enough. Have fun sweetie, I’ll be at work when you get home.”

Eric knew that was probably the case, but he couldn’t help the pang of disappointment that he felt knowing he had another night at home all by himself. 

“I’ll see ya in the morning,” he said, kissing her on the cheek.

When he got downstairs, he found Clyde standing awkwardly in the living room, looking at the faded photo of Eric and Liane above the couch. 

He was equally overdressed for their not date, in khakis and a dark blue button-up shirt. Though Eric supposed, he might have actually been stupid enough to think it was a real date, what with Eric not giving him any reason to believe otherwise. 

Eric swallowed around the unfamiliar feeling of nerves. 

Clyde turned at the sound of his steps. “This place looks exactly the same as when we were kids!” He sounded relieved – like he’d been worried they might have redecorated. 

“Yeah, well, shit never changes around here, so…” Eric said, sticking his hands in the pockets of his pants, trying not to feel self-conscious at Clyde’s gaze.

“Change is overrated, in my opinion,” Clyde said. “You look nice, by the way.”

“Uh, thanks…” Eric grabbed his coat from the rack by the door. “So…what’s the plan?”

“Oh! Well, there’s this place in North Park that does this thing with like, ice cream _in_ coffee, an affa-something—”

“Affogato,” Eric cut in, trying not to think about the fact that anywhere in North Park was at least a half-hour drive.

“Yeah! Have you been there? We can, uh, do something else, if you want…” 

Eric shook his head. “I’ve never been there. I make them at home sometimes, but I don’t have an espresso machine, so I’ve never had the real thing.”

Clyde looked happy at that, at potentially pleasing Eric, who tried not to think about that fact. 

“Great! I’ve got my truck outside!”

Eric grunted, opening the door and following Clyde out into the snow, and not saying anything rude out of self-preservation when Clyde opened the car door for him. 

The inside was surprisingly clean, though it reeked of Clyde’s grease and metal alpha scent. The car ride was tense, with Clyde making trivial comments on things they passed and Eric giving clipped one-word responses. 

But Clyde’s bright smile when they arrived made Eric think that maybe he was the only one who found it tense.

The coffee shop was charmingly trendy, with small dark wood tables surrounded by mismatched padded chairs, the kind of charisma that South Park desperately tried to achieve but never quite reached. 

It was crowded, but not in a way that felt overly packed.

Eric grabbed a table in the corner, away from the window, though he doubted they’d run into anyone they knew. He wondered if Clyde had considered that fact when choosing their _date spot,_ but figured that was giving him too much credit. 

He returned to Eric quickly, holding two steaming oversized mugs with spoons in them.

“I thought you didn’t drink coffee,” Eric said, taking one of the mugs for himself. 

Clyde shrugged, sitting across from him. “It’s not my fave but anything is good with ice cream in it.”

Eric hummed, spooning a scoop of decadent creamy vanilla dessert into his mouth, the bitter espresso dripping onto his fingers. He fought the urge to moan, licking away the excess. 

Remembering himself, he looked up to see Clyde, warm brown eyes shining in happiness. “Good right? I think they use gelato.”

That was about all Eric could take. 

“Okay, what’s your deal?” 

Confusion flit across Clyde’s face. “M-my deal?”

“Yeah, what are we doing here?” Eric set his cup down, gesturing around them. 

“Um, getting ice cream?” 

Eric huffed. “No, what are _we_ doing here? Why did you ask me out, we aren’t friends.”

“We aren’t?” A flash of hurt in Clyde’s eyes and for a second, Eric felt like an asshole, but no, it deserved asking. They _weren’t_ friends. “I talk to you all the time at Tweek’s.”

“I make you tea, Clyde,” Eric rolled his eyes. “I make half the town’s coffee. I’m not friends with Father Maxi just ‘cause I know how he takes his latte.”

“Oh,” was all Clyde said. 

“Look, I’m just wondering why the fuck you asked me to hang out.”

“Ah, well, I guess that’s fair…” Clyde’s gaze drifted to the side for a minute before coming back to Eric. “I just—I’m uh, trying to, you know. Get back out there.”

Of course! Why didn’t that occur to Eric sooner? Clyde was on the rebound.

“So you’re trying to get over Bebe?” He asked, already prepared for Clyde’s guilty nod. “And is every other omega in our school taken or…?”

“What, no!” Clyde assured. “I really did think we were friends, Cartman.”

Eric’s face scrunched up. “Really?”

“And I mean, I know you’re not exactly friends with Bebe, so I thought it might not be too weird for you to say yes to a…date.”

Snorting a laugh, Eric took a drink from his mug. “I’m gonna give you a little advice for your future endeavors, Clyde. Don’t start a date by telling them you’re trying to get over your ex.”

Clyde cringed a bit.

“Also, this is _not_ a date,” Eric told him firmly. “You and I,” he pointed back and forth, “would never work.”

Clyde nodded slowly, though it didn’t seem like he knew what he was agreeing to. 

Eric grabbed his spoon, dipping into the little bit of gelato that had yet to melt. “I guess it can be two friends hanging out though.”

He stared intently into his cup, pretending not to notice the surprised happiness on Clyde’s face. 

“Oh! Well, cool. Thanks, Cartman. I’m uh…happy to be your friend.”

“Don’t make it weird, dude.”

“Right, sorry,” Clyde turned back to his cup. 

“So what happened with you and blondie anyway? Bebe finally realize she’s too hot for anyone in South Park?”

Clyde’s shoulder dropped. “Maybe, I don’t know. We had a fight, I don’t even remember what it was about, but I guess I was being stupider than usual because she said we’re through. And I didn’t even think she was that serious but then she agreed to go to the dance with _Kyle_ —”

Eric stomach flipped at the name and he very firmly ignored whatever it meant.

“—and how can I compete with the smartest alpha in our grade? Of course she’d want someone with a future, and I just—”

“Oh my God, Clyde,” Eric cut him off. “You can’t seriously be threatened by _Kyle_?”

“Well they’re going out!” 

Eric waved a hand carelessly. “They’re going to a dance. That’s not exactly wedding bells and mating marks.”

“Oh God, you think they’re going to _mate_?”

“I just said they weren’t! Jesus,” Eric sighed. “Why don’t you just do that whole, stupid alpha posturing bullshit. Let Bebe pick the biggest, strongest alpha the traditional way.”

“Against Kyle? But he’s like the nicest alpha in school—” 

“Ugh, as if. Kyle is just as stupid as the rest of you, uh—no offense.”

Clyde brushed him off. “None taken. But I can’t fight with Kyle. He’s a good guy.”

With a put-upon sigh, Eric made a quick decision. 

“Well if you’re not gonna make Bebe see you as the better alpha, you’ll just have to get her back the old-fashioned way.”

“Flowers?” Clyde asked, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Jealousy.”

Brown eyes grew wide. “How—”

“Looks like you’ve got a date for the winter formal.”

+

When Eric arrived home it was dark out, and he had another name to add to the short list of people he considered friends. 

It was cold in the house since he and his mother had agreed to turn the heat off anytime they left home, and it took hours to warm back up. 

After making himself a sandwich, Eric sat in the kitchen, still fully dressed to stave off the chill. Mind still swirling from his earlier conversation, he filled a travel mug with coffee and headed outside for a walk until the heat defrosted the windows. 

Eric didn’t have any place in mind, and for a second he considered going to Butters, but the thought of dealing with his parents nailed that coffin closed quickly. 

Instead, he headed for the park. The lights would have switched on by then and he knew sometimes the goth kids smoked around the swing set when Henrietta’s parents were being more irritating than usual. 

About twenty feet away, Eric began to pick up the sound of a basketball smacking against the blacktop repeatedly. 

His prayers that it came from a group of middle school kids and not anyone he went to school with were quickly dashed when he turned the corner to find Kyle standing at the free-throw line. 

Mind already made up on going back home, he started to turn away but was stopped by the sound of his name.

“Cartman!” Kyle sounded out of breath, and when Eric turned to look, he could see his warm breath hanging in the air. 

Annoyed at being seen, but never one to back down, Eric walked slowly to the edge of the court. 

“Kahl,” he replied, taking a sip of his coffee. “Don’t you have a hoop on your garage?”

“Ike broke it,” Kyle shrugged, wiping sweat off his face. He walked over to Eric. “That kid is gonna be bigger than me.”

“Canadians,” Eric said, straightening up as Kyle moved closer. He was so much taller than Eric, it drove him crazy. 

“Maybe,” Kyle laughed, and Eric felt his heart squeeze. Kyle never smiled like that at him anymore. “What are you doing out here so late?”

“It’s like seven-thirty, Jew.” 

“Oh,” Kyle looked around. “Got dark fast.”

“Winter,” Eric replied, ignoring the breadth of Kyle’s shoulders and the way his shirt was clinging to him with sweat, even in the cold. “I came to swing.”

Kyle choked, looking at him with eyebrows raised comically high. “Excuse me?”

“On the _swing set,_ ” Eric bit out. “Get your alpha ass out of the gutter.”

“Hey! Me being an alpha has nothing to do with—that…assumption. I just didn’t know anyone over the age of twelve uses the swing set.”

Eric rolled his eyes, walking around Kyle and towards the play equipment. “Maybe you just need to connect with the child inside of you, Kahl.”

The crunching of gravel told him Kyle was following, and Eric heard him laugh as he took a seat on one of the swings, gripping the cold metal chains.

“No thank you,” Kyle said, though he grabbed a swing either way. “That guy was kind of an asshole.”

Pushing off the ground, Eric swung back into a slow rhythm. “Ah, so you finally admit you were an asshole?”

Kyle scoffed, falling into an opposite rhythm until they were swinging past each other in time. He could smell Kyle’s autumn scent, strongest at the middle when they were right next to each other, fading a little when they were both in the air at opposite sides. 

“Like you were any better.”

“I was mentally ill. What was your excuse?”

Eric heard Kyle’s feet drag over the ground and felt a spray of gravel bounce off of his own shoes. He looked over at Kyle, face calm as if he hadn’t just laid himself out there for someone else to judge. 

“Oh, um,” Kyle stammered, surprise sparkling in his green eyes. “Wow, yeah. I guess, maybe I was just an asshole then.”

A grin split Eric’s face, and for a second it felt like old times – whenever Stan was throwing a fit and Kyle was _his_ best friend – just sharing a joke. 

“I was kind of a little shit,” Eric relented, never breaking his swinging pattern. Kyle finally kicked back into his own stride. 

“A little?” Kyle asked with a hum.

“Maybe a lot!” Eric finally agreed. “But I was a crazy little shit, so I think I should get some kind of slack.”

“Oh-kay,” Kyle laughed. “So what about now?”

Confused, Eric turned to look at him, trying without success to follow Kyle’s face as they moved. “What about now?”

Kyle let his feet drag along the ground until he came to a stop, and Eric stopped pumping his legs until they both hung next to each other.

“Still crazy?” 

“Why Kahl, are you concerned for my mental health?” Eric used his southern belle accent in an attempt to lighten the uncharacteristically sober nature of the question. 

But Kyle just nodded, eyes serious. “Yeah, I am. I mean—we haven’t talked in a long time, I was just wondering how you’ve been—”

The sharp sound of a basic stock ringtone split the air and Kyle startled at the sound, reaching into his pocket.

“Who the fuck doesn’t keep their phone on vibrate?” Eric muttered, catching a hint of the shrill voice of Sheila Broflovski. 

“Mom, I’m at the park! Yes, I’m fine, it’s not that cold. Ugh, make Ike do it! What, why? Fine! Yes, I am. Okay, bye.” Kyle hung up the phone with a disgusted sigh. “Jesus Christ.”

“Did someone break their curfew?” Eric tittered, happy to have something to focus on besides their previous conversation. 

“My dad’s out of town and the breaker tripped and it’s down in the basement.”

Eric hummed. “And the bitch can’t flip it herself?”

“Don’t call my mom a bitch, Cartman,” Kyle replied, but his heart wasn’t in it. “We’ve been begging her to stop going down there in the dark before she kills herself. Of course, now, she finally listens.”

Kyle stood up, still holding the chain as he turned to look at Eric. “See you around?”

Eric snorted, rolling his eyes. “We live down the street from each other.”

“I still feel like I never see you,” Kyle started walking back towards the court and where his jacket and basketball lay on the ground. 

“We go to the same school!” Eric shouted, watching the way his sweatpants stretched across his thighs as he bent over. 

“I mean talk!” Kyle shouted, turned briefly to look at Eric before he headed out of the park.

“I’m still crazy!” Eric was practically screaming now, and Kyle didn’t even turn around as he screamed back.

“I don’t doubt it!” 

Eric watched Kyle until he turned the corner towards their houses before he pulled himself backward again, lifting his feet as he swung through the air. 

Kyle still gave a shit about him, it seemed.

_Huh._

+


End file.
